


You Set Me On Fire

by SidingwiththeAngels



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Aromantic Asexual Pidge | Katie Holt, Band Fic, Bisexual Allura (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Demisexual Keith (Voltron), F/F, F/M, Filipino Character, Gay Keith (Voltron), Gay Shiro (Voltron), Gen, Inspired by Music, Japanese Keith (Voltron), Japanese Shiro (Voltron), Lesbian Romelle (Voltron), M/M, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Pansexual Hunk (Voltron), Queer Character, Rock Stars, Slow Burn, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Veteran Shiro (Voltron), asexual author, nonbinary author, this is going to be a long one folks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23942317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SidingwiththeAngels/pseuds/SidingwiththeAngels
Summary: “Then you get to deal with Keith if he throws a fit,” Adam said sternly, pointing a stylus as Pidge like a weapon. “I did it last time.”“And it got him a bass player. He’s not mad.”“I can’t play in a rock band,” Lance interjected. “I only know acoustic guitar, mainly Cuban, and a few pop songs. So, it’s not the same. I’m not getting killed for this, Pidge.”“Keith won’t kill you,” Hunk assured him.“Yes, because I took his knife away from him before we left the house today,” Adam pointed out. “If I hadn’t, you’d be dead.”Lance paused and looked around at the group of people he’d suddenly been thrown into. “Do I want to know you people anymore?”“We’re the coolest people you know, bitch,” Pidge quipped.Or:Lance has gotten into his dream university. He's finally meeting his pen-pal, Hunk, and their other roommate Pidge. Pidge's brother, Matt, plays in a band, the Paladins of Voltron, led by noneother than Keith Kogane. Lance just wanted a good year at university. What he got was so much better.
Relationships: Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Allura/Romelle (Voltron), Hunk/Shay (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 26





	You Set Me On Fire

**Author's Note:**

> I have wanted to write this for almost two years now. Kept sitting on it, writing other things, doing other things, and then my brain just said, 'Stop procrastinating! You're writing this fucking fic!' So here is the first of, I hope many chapters to come. Please enjoy.

Lance had made it. It was almost ethereal, the feeling coursing through his nerves. He was there. He was standing _right there._ Right where he wanted to be. With his suitcases stacked behind him and his internationally useless phone clutched in his hand, he stared at the ornate sign in front of him.

**_The University of Altea at Arus_ **

A part of him wanted to cry. Happy tears, of course, but how would it look if this young man with no family or friends around him just broke down crying on the sidewalk across from college? There would probably be a lot of concerned parents staring at him. Or a call to ICE. So instead of breaking down in delight, Lance took in a deep breath and exhaled as he took his first step.

The University of Altea was _breathtaking._ The buildings were a mix of old Victorian and new post-modernism. The shiny white wood and dulled red brick buildings towered over him or stood no bigger than his parents’ house. A fountain with three interlocking pools sat neatly in the center of a half-dozen Roman columns with no purpose other than aesthetic. A gardenscape longer than it was wide spread itself in the middle of campus at the foot of The Castle.

Lance stared in awe at The Castle. One of the oldest buildings left in the country had been turned into the epicenter of learning in Arus. Spires at every corner, the steepled roof, the long narrow windows gleaming in the mid-morning sun. It screamed prestige yet wasn’t intimidating at all. It was almost comforting to Lance. A large ‘Welcome Home’ sort of feeling.

As much as he wanted to stare at the marvelous architecture, he knew he needed to get to a stable internet hotspot soon. If his parents didn’t hear from him within in the next few hours, he feared they would board the next plane from Cuba to check up on it. Not that he was the first to leave their home country. No, he was just the baby. That made it harder.

With two bags and a backpack, Lance had to figure out a way to finagle his way around without looking like a mess. It was harder than he thought it would be. Loading them into the plane in Varadero he at least had his papí and brothers. Getting them off and to campus, he had a taxi driver to help. Now he felt like he was going to drown under the weight. And he hadn’t even brought everything! But he didn’t want to think about any of that right now. He knew he was going to miss his cat and guitar and start crying.

Lance turned around in a circle trying to see if there were any signs for a café or a bookstore or just ‘Wi-Fi Found Here, Lost Freshman!’ He didn’t find the Wi-Fi sign, but he did notice a large flock of students making their way towards a building. He followed, stopping every few feet to keep his bags upright, until he saw a wonderous sign. _Starbucks™_. He’d never had a Starbucks drink before. It wasn’t that his town didn’t have one; he just had other things to spend his money on. But it was a welcome sign nonetheless. Pulling up towards the building, he stopped at a free outside table and sat down with a loud huff.

A young man the next table over chuckled and mumbled, “Mood” without looking up from his phone.

Usually, Lance would make a joke and try to befriend this stranger, but the fear of his mother’s international worry kept him from delay. He put his phone on the table and turned it on. He couldn’t wait to get one that would be useful in the States, one with texting and data and no bills his parents could see. But that would have to wait a while, probably a couple of weeks.

Once the final dings and chirps had quieted from the tinny speakers, Lance quickly made work of connecting to the internet. He bypassed all the social media calling out to him and immediately found the app he was looking for. He pulled up his family’s group chat and sent a quick text.

_11:28 A.M._

_Leandro:_ _Llegué a Arus_ _. Ya los extraño chicos._

He wasn’t even surprised when he got an immediate reply. He knew someone, likely his mamá, would be clutching the phone or laptop hard enough to break it before Lance texted.

_Mamá: ¡Maravilloso! ¿Te instalaste¿ á? ¿Tus compañeros de cuarto son amables?Necesitas que te envíe algo?_

_Leandro: No, Mamá. Estoy a punto de conocer a mis compañeros de cuarto. No he desempacado, pero si me perdí algo, te lo haré saber._

Before he could get a response, likely something frazzled about how ‘why aren’t you set up yet?!’ he switched over to his other messaging app. This one was harder to put on his phone, but his new roommate, Hunk, assured him it would be just fine.

_Lance: I made it to campus. I don’t know where I am other than at a Starbucks. Please don’t tell me there are hundreds of them!_

This time, he did have to wait. He wasn’t surprised. Even though it was nearly mid-day, it likely wouldn’t be abnormal for Hunk to still be asleep. That’s what nineteen-year-olds sophomores did while wee little babe Freshman ran around with their parents, right? Lance just happened to be in both categories. A nineteen-year-old freshman wanting to be asleep but instead running around alone.

He was ripped out of his stupor by his entire table vibrating. He snatched his phone up before it could vibrate off the table and saw that Hunk’s picture ID.

“Hello?” he answered, cringing at how unsure he sounded.

 _“Lance!”_ Hunk all but shouted. “ _I’m so glad you’re here, man! Plane ride was ok? Not too much turbulence? I can’t ride in planes too much because they make me sick and, you know, being tall kinda makes it hard to sit in those tiny seats. And – “_

_“Hunk! Shut up and let the man speak!”_

That was not a voice Lance recognized. He couldn’t make anything of it other than it was fondly furious. Something in that tone said, ‘I’ve heard this a lot,’ as well as ‘ _God,_ I’ve heard this a lot!’ Somehow different but simultaneous. So his sister Veronica.

“Um, yeah, it was good,” Lance lied. It wasn’t. But Hunk sounded so happy that he didn’t want to upset him and tell him how nervous he was and felt like he was going to puke out his lower intestine.

“ _You’re a horrid liar, even through the phone,”_ ‘Fondly-Furious’ said. “ _Ok, what Starbucks are you at? There are, indeed, a hundred.”_

Lance groaned. Where was he? He looked around and found another couple of eating shops – ChickFlia? What was that? – and saw a couple of students with large instruments pushing their way into a building across the street.

“The Castle’s on my left, and there’s a music building, I think? And – Oh! I see the Science Center!”

“ _You’re edging on the Liberal Arts side of campus, buddy,_ ” Hunk said, unhelpfully. Where was the non-Liberal Arts side of campus, then? “ _Just stay there, and we’ll come get you. What color is your luggage?”_

Lance looked over to where he’d dropped his bags. He’d almost forgotten about them and found himself relieved when they hadn’t been stolen. He snatched up his backpack while he was thinking about it. Having his passport and student visa stolen didn’t sound like a good first day.

“One’s new and bright blue. Neon blue. And the other’s an old purple thing. It might be brown now. But yeah, blue and purple.”

_“Ok, we’re on our way! I’m going to let you go, though. I can’t walk and talk on the phone at the same time, and Pidge here can’t pick me up if I fall.”_

“Wait, who’s Pidge?” But Hunk had hung up already.

With a small sign, Lance put his phone back on the table. He wanted to grab something to drink, but he didn’t want to leave his luggage. So he sat and stewed in his mildly dehydrated state, watching others run around. There were small kids running round the legs of their older siblings, asking a million questions a minute. There were three sets of parents to a student, and she looked overwhelmed with mismatched worry and calm. Lance could feel it from where he sat. There were also a few groups of people who looked settled, like this was just another day to them, friends walking around and ignoring the chaos of Move In Day. Or week. Lance knew he was a little late, but it happened sometimes when weather made it hard to catch a flight. He noticed a group of clearly international students holding a map too close to their faces and looking up every two seconds as they made their way across the green.

A sturdy hand clapped down on his shoulder, scaring him out of his reverie. He most certainly didn’t yelp or scream or anything of the sort. If anyone asked, he very elegantly let out a noise of distress. That’s all. He looked up to the arm connected to the hand then up to the orange bandana-adorned head.

“Hey, buddy!” Hunk cheered. “Glad we found you!”

“Hunk!” Lance jumped up and hugged his roommate. Then remembered that they’d never actually met before and jumped back. “Um, I think it’s a bit late for handshakes, but it’s nice to meet you?”

Hunk laughed a full-body laugh, and Lance knew he was going to be okay. Something about the good-naturedness of Hunk’s entire being settled Lance’s nerves. All of them. School, immigration, language. Whatever Lance was worried about suddenly didn’t matter. Then he was swept up in a bone-crushing hug that definitely took all the air out of his lungs.

“We’ve known each other too long for handshakes, Lance!” Hunk declared. Then he set the shorter man on the ground again with hand on his shoulder to stabilize him. “Ten years of pen-paling is way beyond a handshake.”

“So this is Lance.”

Lance looked around Hunk to a shorter person not coming up to the big man’s elbow. He couldn’t tell if they were a boy or a girl or if they were even an adult. But from their voice, he realized this was ‘Fondly Furious’. The sun reflected off their glasses as they shoved them back up their nose. The tawny hair shuffled a little as they cocked their head to the side.

“Your pictures don’t do you justice, I must admit. But they are school pictures. They don’t do anyone justice.”

“Pidge, be nice,” Hunk said. There was no venom in his voice, so Lance couldn’t tell if Pidge was actually being rude or not.

This time, Lance did stick his hand out for a handshake. He didn’t know this tiny person. Like his abuela said, ‘ _Tiny people are closer to Hell, mijo. Don’t make us mad_.’

“Lance,” he said, unhelpfully.

“I know,” Pidge deadpanned, but they took his hand all the same. Then they let it drop. “You better not snore or anything.”

“Snore?” Lance turned towards Hunk who was picking Lance’s luggage off the sidewalk. “I thought you and I were rooming together. Or did I not understand?”

“Oh, we are.” Hunk flushed a little and rubbed the back of his neck, dropping a bag with the movement. Lance dove for his suitcase to not drop on his foot as Hunk elaborated, “Pidge didn’t want to room with another stranger, especially as they don’t exactly have Gender Neutral dorm options around. I meant to ask you if it was ok, but by the time I knew, they’d already hacked the system. They got us a three-bedroom dorm suite for sophomores! So no freshman dorm for you, man!”

Lance pulled the purple suitcase as Hunk took the neon blue one and led them away from Starbucks. “That’s so cool! But won’t you get into trouble?” He looked down at Pidge who had brought out a phone and was messing around on it.

“No,” they said simply. When Hunk gave them a look, they sighed. “Most likely not. I covered my tracks. Also, the university’s security is horrible. I could have gotten us, like, presidential suite of uni-owned apartments for free, and they wouldn’t have noticed.”

“They would have noticed,” Hunk shot back.

“When it was too late!” Pidge waved their hands around as if making themselves bigger would make Hunk back down on his argument.

He didn’t. He raised an eyebrow at them, which made them give a resigned sigh.

“I didn’t do that,” they reassured begrudgingly. “I got us _mediocre_ dorm suite. Keeps me from having to room with another girl who’s going to ‘show me how great it is to be a girl!’ and keep Hunk from feeling guilty about it.”

“Still feel guilty, but as long as you don’t point the finger at me, I guess I can live with it.”

“Please,” Pidge scoffed. “You can hardly restart your computer correctly, much less hack anything.”

“How long have you guys known each other?” Lance interrupted. He felt like he was intruding on a friendly, years-long game of ping-pong and was just the annoying net in the middle that kept the game from continuing.

“Mm, just a year?” Hunk said. “Yeah, we met last fall in our Intro to Machinery class.”

“Oh, are you going into Aerospace Engineering too?” Lance asked Pidge. They snorted.

“No, I’m going into Computer Engineering.” They handed over the phone they’d been messing with. “Here. Hunk mentioned that you wouldn’t have a U.S. phone yet. It’s my old one, but it works just fine. I’ve already programmed a few essential apps on there, like the one you mentioned to Hunk for your family, but it’ll have texting and everything on it once you hit the Help Desk at the library. They’ll get you a program for it. I mean, I _could_ – “

“No!” Hunk stopped in front of them and turned to pout at Pidge. “I don’t want your dad showing up again and scaring me like that! I can’t tell what was worse, having a stranger yell at us or having your dad yell at us.”

“They were the same person to you.”

“But I didn’t know that! I thought a stranger just decided to ambush at the library and yell about the phone bill!”

Pidge shrugged then looked up at Lance. Lance stared down at her with wide blue eyes, unsure of what to say. Without having to pay for a phone, he had extra money in his pocket. Extra money to use towards his textbooks or to send back.

“Thanks, Pidge,” he said, genuine and soft. He hadn’t known this person for twenty minutes, and they were just handing over a phone Lance knew was more than he’d made in a month last summer.

They shrugged again, but Lance noticed a slight flush over their pale cheeks. “Just don’t use that phone to wake me up or annoy me or anything. I’ll turn it off. Permanently.”

Lance laughed and nodded but made no promise. He didn’t have nineteen years of younger brother status for nothing.

Before Lance knew it, and certainly before he knew where they were, Hunk stopped in front of a newer, tall building with a mixture of white wood and bright red brick. The front doors were propped open with an old shoe and a bookstand, letting out a gust of cooled air as they stepped closer. Lance hadn’t realized how warm it was until he felt the chill. The warmth here was nothing compared to Varadero, but it also wasn’t the most comfortable weather he’d ever experienced.

Hunk led them to the elevator where a line had formed. Parents and luggage and boxes. Hunk threw a look over his shoulder then turned towards the stairs.

“I’m not carrying anything!” Pidge announced behind them.

Lance wasn’t too happy about lugging his things upstairs, but if it meant not waiting in line, he’d do it. Effortlessly, Hunk picked up a suitcase and tucked it under his arm. He started up the stairs as if he was carrying nothing more than a teddy bear. Lance, on the other hand, turned around backwards and began dragging his suitcase up one step at a time.

“One summer of lifeguarding and surfboard instructor, and you can’t even lift your damn luggage,” Lance mumbled.

“You’re a life guard?” Pidge asked as they watched him struggle around a corner.

“I was,” Lance grunted. “Certified in Cuba at the beach – mierda! – but I don’t think that counts here. Do you guys even have a beach here?”

Pidge laughed humorlessly while Hunk let out a sound of displeasure.

“Not for a few hundred miles,” Hunk grumbled. “I miss it already.”

“How did I end up with two beach bums as my roommates?” Pidge shook their head. “The sun is evil.”

“Sacrilege!” Lance shouted which echoed in the stairwell. “The sun is a wonderous goddess of light and warmth!”

Pidge stared for a moment then said, “Beach. Bums.”

“I already tried,” Hunk said as he held open a door, a large 3 embellished on the outside. “They won’t budge. I managed to get them outside for half an hour last year! It was a miracle.”

“I fried, Hunk. My people thrive indoors.”

“People without melanin?” Lance teased.

Pidge narrowed their eyes at him. “Watch it, McClain. I know where you sleep.”

“Well, that makes one of us.” Lance paused. “How do you know my last name?”

“How else was I to get you into our dorm? Besides, I know a lot more than your name.” They gave him a mischievous smile that definitely did not settle well.

Lance gave Hunk a Look, but he wasn’t phased. The big man just shrugged and jerked his head down the hall.

Finally, after so much struggling and jibbing, they made it. #3028. A dry erase board outside their dorm suite read:

**Hunk Garrett – “It takes no more time to see the good side of life than to see the bad.” Jimmy Buffett**

**Pidge Holt – “Respect my pronouns. Don’t touch my stuff.” Pidge Holt**

**Lance McClain –**

“You get to write whatever you want, man!” Hunk announced as he opened the door. “Well, not whatever you want. I had to veto a few of Pidge’s ideas.”

“Telling people ‘fuck shit up, fuck the government, but don’t die’ is a sound piece of advice,” they argued.

“I don’t want anything that could incriminate me to be on our door, Pidge!”

“You could have said something like, ‘My freedom from gender binary only costs your freedom to respect’ or, you know, something like that,” Lance said as he put a bag on the floor.

Pidge turned to him and gave him an analyzing look. “Not bad, McClain. But it sounds too safe for me. I like challenging people.”

“Some people can’t challenge so boldly.”

“Like who?”

Lance didn’t answer. He looked around their dorm suite and took it in. It wasn’t fancy. It wasn’t large. It certainly wasn’t clean. But there was a small, possibly functioning kitchen with a sink, fridge and stove. The minute counterspace would probably vanish as soon as they settled. The living room area was only big enough for the three small chairs, ottoman, and small TV already set up. There was even a cozy little orange and yellow rug underneath the ottoman. Then the hallway divided off to four doors. The one at the end of the hall already had fairy lights hooked up around the top and a bookcase crammed in the corner. Lance couldn’t see much else as the floor was littered in unsorted piles of stuff. The door just off that showed a bed made up with a yellow and orange comforter with a trimming of blue waves at the bottom. The pattern looked vaguely ornamental to Lance, but he didn’t stare long enough to find out. On the opposite side of what he assumed was Hunk’s room was the bathroom. How three college students were supposed to share one bathroom was a little beyond Lance. But if he could share with Rachel, he could share with anyone.

Finally, there was the last empty room. There was hardly anything in it. The sorry excuse for a twin sized bed. A dresser that hardly stood at Lance’s hip. A desk and chair that both looked like they would break if he sat too quickly. A closet with a broken knob and handprints worn into the wood.

It was the best thing Lance had ever seen. Lance felt the corners of his eyes tingle and a hard swooping feeling in his chest. A mixture of relief and homesickness kindled in his stomach. How he could feel homesick when he just arrived was almost unfathomable. But as he stared at a room that was just his, even temporarily, he felt a need to go home.

“Hey, Pidge said – Lance, are you okay?” Hunk stood in the doorway as he looked down at his new roommate.

Lance knew there were some unshed tears clinging to his eyes, but he made no move to clear them away. “Yeah, buddy. Just happy. Did you know this is the first time I’ve ever had a room to myself?”

“Yeah, I remember that,” Hunk murmured gently. “Are you going to be okay about it?”

“It’ll take some time to not hear Rachel’s snores anymore,” Lance chuckled, “but I’ll manage.”

Hunk gave Lance a reassuring smile. “Well if you ever need a hug or a cuddle, I’m all up for that. But when you’re ready, Pidge said the ‘new school year’ festival is starting soon. They want to show us their brother’s band or something like that. I don’t think we have a choice in going.”

“You don’t!” Pidge shouted from the kitchen.

“I’ll hurry,” Lance laughed.

‘Hurrying’ was easier said than done. Even with Hunk’s help – Pidge ‘coached’ from the hallway – it still took Lance a couple of hours to get settled in. He still had pictures to put up and minute details to hammer out, but he was overall satisfied with everything. He changed out of the clothes he’d been wearing for nearly thirty-six hours and met his roommates in the living room.

“Took you long enough,” Pidge gripped without any venom or hostility in their voice. “Now let’s go!”

If Lance had thought the area of campus he’d found himself in earlier was confusing, he certainly needed to redefine ‘confusing’. The maze of buildings, cafes, shops, pavilions, and miniature amphitheaters almost overwhelmed him as Pidge led them around. He could see that Pidge and Hunk had traversed all over campus already, finding shortcuts at every direction to get them past the crowds and away from the busy streets.

The festival was also larger than Lance had imagined. The images online had made it seem like it was just a small-town get together whereas reality was different. Reality made it look like it was the city’s largest festival ever held in the history of Arus. Food trucks lined the streets for over a mile on both sides. Police directed traffic away from the festival entirely, giving way to the swarms of students hurrying towards the field. Carnival games and rides were set up at the far side. Lance could even see a FlowRider that he was dying to try out. See if he couldn’t beat any of these inlanders on a fabricated version of his home turf. But before he could make his way over, Pidge pulled on his arm.

“No, we’re going this way!” they announced and tugged him to the other side of the festival.

That was where the crowds were. A large, simple stage sat along the edge of the festival. The crowd around it was dense with heatwaves rolling off. Along the back and a portion of the sides of the stage, there was a large black wall that supported smaller, artistically cut white fabrics. The school’s name was spray painted on the white fabric in a variety of colors. A band was onstage already, though with how Pidge was ignoring them, Lance assumed this wasn’t who they were meant to watch. 

They were dragged in further until they were standing near the front of the crowd. Even though the band wasn’t Lance’s particular taste, he found himself already enjoying the atmosphere. Excitement rattled through the crowd like an infectious wave. Young woman sat atop the shoulders of stereotypical fraternity guys and even the odd woman or two. Men of all shapes and sizes in torn shirts, boxers, swimshorts, turbans, suits, costumes. Women in burqas, bikinis, paint, wigs, sports uniforms. It was electrifying, and it was only three o’clock! Lance knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep for hours as his anxiety and jubilation melded into one feeling of _YES._ There was nothing else to describe it. It was the word of the hour – of the _day,_ and Lance was here for it.

A scream ripped through the crowd as another wave of applause hit Lance’s ears. He cringed and turned towards the stage. The band was gone. Now there was just a young man in a fraternity shirt and horrid khaki shorts standing with a microphone.

“Hello U-A-A!” he shouted. “How we all feelin’ today?!” The crowd screamed. “You are tellin’ me! Who’s ready for the best school year ever?” Another bout of screaming assaulted the air. “Hey, hey! Let’s get it started then! Next up is everyone’s favorite: The Paladins of Voltron!” He pointed his mic towards the opposite side of the stage as he backed away.

A group of four clad in all black made their way up the steps. The one in front had a tank top with a stylized V on the front, black skinny jeans, and a red face mask on. It was nothing more than a dollar store mask with a couple of black slashes through it. Lance could see dark hair pulled up in a stubby pony tail, but no other features were visible. They carried a red electric guitar that they began plugging in once in place. Behind the lead came a large hulking figure with a purple V t-shirt and a black and purple mask. His shoulders were wider than Hunk’s with muscles rippling with every movement. One arm was covered in cybernetic tattoos from under the sleeve down to the wrist of a black clove. His black jeans were looser fitting, which made sense when he sat down at the drums. Then came a band member with a green mask with blue markings, almost catlike in design, with tawny hair reaching their ears.

“That’s Matt!” Pidge whisper-shouted in Lance’s ear.

Lance watched as Matt made his way to the keyboards set up in an L-shape.

As the last band member came on stage, there was a round of wolf-whistles ricocheting through the crowed. A woman with dark skin came to the front, her mask a bright pink with crudely pointed ears. Her hair was brighter still, long pink curls that reached her elbows and nearly covered her black and pink crop top. Her black skirt sat on top of black leggings and boots. She looked like she was sweltering. They all did, in Lance’s opinion, but no one gave any indication of near death. Instead, she brought her pale blue bass guitar up to the mic next to Red and plugged in.

“How’s everyone doing today?” Pink asked, her voice slightly off, but Lance couldn’t tell how.

The crowd screamed again.

“I can’t hear you!” Pink goaded.

The crowd screamed loud enough for Lance to feel the stage shake next to him.

“That’s more like it!” Pink laughed. “Alright, UAA, show me your war faces! Let me hear your lion roars! This year, we walk as lions!”

For all the hype Pink caused, the song was slower than Lance imagined.

Matt began on the keys, an almost melancholy tune. Then Red stepped up to the mic.

“ _Today we live, today we breathe  
Today we know that we are strong when we are weak  
Today we trust, we overcome  
Take every chain_ _that kept us slaves and throw ‘em off”_

Pink stepped up to the microphone and began singing along, her bass hanging around her hips.

_“We're not waiting for permission  
We defy our inhibition  
Like our middle name is "fearless"  
Unafraid”_

Guitars strummed as the keys whistled down, the drums beating in the background. Lance was entranced as Red’s fingers picked the strings, his voice unencumbered by the mask. It was only then that Lance noticed many in the crowd were singing along.

_“If we're gonna fly, we fly like eagles  
Arms out wide  
If we're gonna fear, we fear no evil  
We will rise  
By your power, we will go  
By your spirit, we are bold  
If we're gonna stand, we stand as giants  
If we're gonna walk, we walk as lions.”_

“I didn’t know your brother’s band was _good,_ ” Lance shouted accusingly at Pidge. Their bright, proud smile took away any venom Lance could have possibly conjured. He was expecting a rinky-dink garage band that just happened to be allowed to play, not a band that seemed to be known and well-performed. Their masks hid more than their identities, and Lance was frustrated by that.

“I knew you’d like it!” Pidge shouted back. It was getting difficult to hear or be heard over the crowd. “Hunk said this was your type of music.”

“Well, not this one exactly,” Lance retorted. “It sounds vaguely religious.”

“Oh yeah, Keith’s still mad about that,” Hunk interrupted.

“Who’s Keith?”

“Red,” Hunk and Pidge said together.

“But you’re not supposed to know,” Pidge threatened.

“I just got here,” Lance said, his hands held up in surrender, “I know nothing.”

Pidge gave him one last analyzing look before turning back to the stage.

The song was ending, the crowd supplying any background vocalization the band may not have known they needed. Words echoed through campus. ‘Oh-a’s trailed after the echoes until the last notes from the keyboards faded into the air. The crowd cheered again, deafeningly moreso than before. Whoever didn’t know The Paladins of Voltron three minutes ago certainly knew them now.

“Alright alright!” A voice cut through the crowd. A cheery voice that was deep and comforting. Even jovial, Lance could sense something almost parental about the voice. Peering around Red and Pink, Lance couldn’t see anyone else speaking. He couldn’t see everyone, but unless this was the Voice of God, someone on stage was talking. “Go Altean Lions! We – “

The crowd’s cheers cut him off. He laughed into the mic, joining the cacophony of noise rising into the stratosphere.

“We’re so happy to be back this year!” The voice started again. Hunk steered Lance’s shoulders until he could see Black on the drums leaning towards a mic. Oh. There he was. “Fourth year running! If you ask us back again, we may have to charge you!”

The crowd laughed as Red whisked their head around at Black. Nothing was said, but tension could be read in every muscle on Red’s back.

“You never know, I could be lying,” Black amended. Then he went on. “Ok, do we have any international students this year? Raise your hand or give us a scream!”

Lance, feeling dumb, raised his hand as a sparse number of people screamed or shouted behind him. He didn’t want to turn around and see if there were any other raised hands or if anyone was laughing at him.

“Welcome! Or welcome back!” Black shouted. “It’s good to have kindred spirits in the audience, right guys!”

Pink gave a whoop as Green pumped his fist in the air. Red did nothing.

“This one is for you guys,” Pink cheered.

Matt started again, an eerie bopping sound overpowering the silence that had fallen. Then Pink began to strum and stomp in time with the beat.

_“The feast is set before me_

_And the plates are platinum._

_But all I taste is ashes and my lips are turning numb_

_The smiles in the beauty and the promises I see_

_Glory, hallelujah never said it came for free.”_

Red stepped up to the mic, their fingers plucking again, but no voice. Beauty for Lance to get lost in. Except for Pink’s, but it didn’t hold the same allure that Red’s did.

“ _Ring around the roses._

_I see through your poses._

_Ashes to ashes._

_I all comes falling down.”_

“That’s Allura,” Pidge informed Lance, their lips almost on his ear. He jumped at the sudden sensation but didn’t pull away. “You’ll meet her later. She’s super cool. And one of the only ones who doesn’t put up with Keith’s bullshit.”

“It’s not all bull,” Hunk protested. “Some of it’s just artistic differences.”

“This is why they didn’t ask you to play as Yellow.”

“I also don’t know how to play an instrument.”

The music blasted, interrupting any further arguments.

“Neither does Matt!”

_“I, I am a foreigner._

_Got a fire in my soul, never gave it up!_

_And I know I don’t belong right here_

_I know I don’t belong right here_

_Fly till I make it home_

_I keep my eyes to the skies even if I don’t”_

“Hey, let’s get away from the crowds,” Pidge suggested.

“You’re the one that brought us here!” Lance argued.

“We’re not leaving the stage, idiot. I know a back way.”

“Then why didn’t we go there first?’ Hunk asked.

“I wanted Lance to get the full experience. Or at least part of it. But I’m bored of this now. Let’s go to the side.”

Not knowing what else to do, Lance followed Pidge around the side of the stage towards the back wall. The drastic drop in noise level nearly made his ears pop in rejoice. While he had fun, just a few songs was enough to overload him after what seemed like a lifetime of silence. Now he understood those American teenage films a little more.

Once they reached the back, Lance saw a man with lightly tanned skin, light brown hair, and half-moon glasses going over a tablet. He wore a white button up shirt tucked into a pair of nice jeans. He was out of place yet looked like authority. He may have been the concert manager for all Lance knew.

“Hey Adam,” Pidge called as they made their way over.

Adam didn’t even look up before he sighed into his tablet.

“Do I even want to know why you’re here?” he asked exasperatedly. Then he looked up, his eyes going wide at Lance. “Do I want to know why you brought a _stranger_ back here?”

“He’s not a stranger,” Pidge argued. “He’s Hunk’s pen pal. And I’ve vetted him anyway. He’s cool.”

“Vetted me?” Lance asked. “What? When?”

“I told you I knew more than your last name,” they said without looking at him. “I wasn’t lying.”

“Pidge, you can’t just bring people back here!” Adam argued. “Even the university Student Council or deans come back here! The band – “

“Will survive,” Pidge interrupted. “Besides, Lance already knows Green is my brother. He might as well meet the others.”

“I’m totally ok with not meeting them, if that’s an issue,” Lance said, trying not to cause a scene. It was only his first day. He didn’t want to get arrested for trespassing or anything.

“Then you get to deal with Keith if he throws a fit,” Adam said sternly, pointing a stylus as Pidge like a weapon. “I did it last time.”

“And it got him a bass player. He’s not mad.”

“I can’t play in a rock band,” Lance interjected. “I only know acoustic guitar, mainly Cuban, and a few pop songs. So, it’s not the same. I’m not getting killed for this, Pidge.”

“Keith won’t kill you,” Hunk assured him.

“Yes, because I took his knife away from him before we left the house today,” Adam pointed out. “If I hadn’t, you’d be dead.”

Lance paused and looked around at the group of people he’d suddenly been thrown into. “Do I want to know you people anymore?”

“We’re the coolest people you know, bitch,” Pidge quipped.

Lance narrowed his eyes at them. “I’m mad that you’re pretty close to right on that.”

Pidge opened their mouth to respond, likely to ask what he meant by ‘pretty close’ until they heard a cacophonous scream again.

“ _Thank you, UAA!”_ A voice -likely Black – shouted. _“Have a great school year! Go Altean Lions!”_

Before the voice had even stopped, Green had stepped off stage, stumbling off the last step in front of Adam.

“Matt!” Pidge yelled. Matt turned to them, pulling off his mask, and grinned.

“I hoped you’d come!” Matt said as he made his way over to his sibling. As he came closer, Lance noticed the significant size difference between them. Matt was much older, his face free of baby fat or childlike softness. His chin was sharper and dotted in stubble with a small scar on his cheek. His hair was slightly longer than Pidge’s too, under his ears in a shaggy, unkempt way. As Matt ruffled his hand through his hair, Lance had the oddest sensation crop up about the keyboardist. He seemed like a nerdy caterpillar trying to morph into some hot anime character persona as a butterfly but was stuck in the cocoon. As Lance’s eyes roamed this man’s form, he had the slightly inkling that he wouldn’t mind sticking around to see the final transformation.

Then Pink stepped out. Her long pink curls bounced around her elbows as her mask came off. Startling ice blue eyes shone out like neon lights against her dark skin. Then the hair fell away to a tight white bun on the back of her head.

“This one isn’t good for performances,” she announced, holding the wig up to eye-level. “I’m surprised I made it to the final chord with that raging headache.”

Her accent finally clicked in Lance’s head. It hadn’t been strange or faked like he thought. It had been muffled from the mask and, likely, a slight bit of acting. South African, if he guessed correctly, as she sounded like a TV show host his family sometimes watched in Cuba. Her accent, her beauty, her ability to play guitar and sing. Lance was ready to bow at this woman’s feet and pledge loyalty to her. She had an ethereal air to her that enticed him to her presence. Some of that enticement escaped in a strange strangled noise. She turned to look at him.

 _So much for suave first impressions,_ he thought.

“And who are you?” she asked, on the cusp of polite and accusatory.

“Lance,” he squeaked out. Then he cleared his throat. Before he could try again, she squealed.

“Hunk’s Lance? The pen-pal?” she asked, delightedly. Lance nodded. “Oh it’s so wonderful to finally meet you!”

Allura bounded over and pulled him into a hug. Again, the air was squeezed out of him with inhumane strength, even more surprising by her lithe form. Whatever she did – CrossFit, Yoga, crushing men beneath her feet – Lance needed to get onboard. He too wanted to be lithe and immensely strong. Before he could ask her to very politely stop trying to kill him, she let go.

“Terribly sorry,” she said without a trace of apology in her tone or her eyes. “Hunk’s told us all about you! I’m so excited you’re finally here.”

“Me too, Princess. Uh, Pink. I mean, Allura.” Lance slapped a hand to his face as Allura laughed.

“Any of those are fine. Just don’t call me Pink in context to the band. Keith might – “

“I hate that song, Shiro!”

Another two bodies stumbled down the steps this time, Red and Black trying to walk side-by-side down a single lane. Black’s shoulders hit the wall a number of times before they landed on flat, open space.

“It’s a crowd pleaser, Keith, and – “

“And I wrote that song when I was _16._ It didn’t age well.”

“The crowd loves it!”

“Crowds are stupid.”

“Crowds pay for your equipment,” Adam interrupted. “They also make it to where you have enough notice to allow performances, which gets you more money towards more equipment. And hopefully, staff one day.”

“You’re not graduating tomorrow, Adam,” Red – Keith shot back. “I don’t have to do anything until then. Except write a new fucking song about lions!”

“It is a little slow,” Lance said. Then he clamped up as three heads whipped around to face him.

Adam simply cocked an eyebrow under his sandy hair before turning back to the tablet. Black, or Shiro, cocked his head at Lance with a soft, questioning look that read, ‘ _Am I supposed to know you?’'_ Keith was stuck between fuming and vindicated.

“Who are you?” Keith bit out.

“Hi, nice to meet you too, I’m Lance.” Lance tried hard not to be a completely sarcastic asshat on his first interactions with people, but this guy was rubbing him the wrong way. And the right way. It was infuriating that someone so attractive with dark almost purple eyes and beautiful dark hair was also a complete asshole. Lance had seen and heard nothing but anger and violence from this guy, and he had only known about him for the past half hour. Why did he have so many friends or bandmates if he was so hostile?

Keith glared at him for a moment then up at Hunk. Hunk shrugged with a reassuring smile. “Yes, that Lance.”

Keith let out a low growl from the back of his throat before he closed his eyes. He inhaled so deeply that Lance almost felt his own breath being sucked right out of him. Again. This group of friends really wanted to leave him breathless. When Keith opened his eyes again, his eyes flashed violet before simmering into a dark pool of grey and purple, like a settling storm at dusk. He walked over to Lance, stuck his hand out, and bit out, “I’m Keith Kogane. I’m the lead singer of the Paladins of Voltron.”

Before Lance could take Keith's hand, Matt rand over in between them towards Shiro. He pushed the man's shirt sleeve up to his shoulder, exposing where the tattoos stopped. 

"Matt, please wait," Shiro pleaded, his eyes on Lance. Lance simply gave him a questioning look. 

"Can't," Matt replied. "Sensors says it's almost out of battery life. It may burn if you keep trying to use it." Then he pushed Shiro's tattoos out of the way, exposing harsh metal line across Shiro's bicep. Lance stared in amazement as Matt harshly turned Shrio's arm and the entire thing popped off. 

**Author's Note:**

> So that was a thing! Let me know what you think about it!
> 
> Songs:   
> Lions by Skillet  
> Foreigner by LEDGER
> 
> I do not own these songs, characters, music, anything, anything, anything. Nothing but my own creative mind.


End file.
